Life Goals
by Angelikah
Summary: The landmarks of human life that Rebekah experienced, and the landmark of supernatural life that he didn't. Mabekah vignettes. Character death. M for smut.


**A/N: Mabekah one-shot. Character death at the end. Bittersweet...sort of…****I was in a weird mood, okay?  
Enjoy!  
-Angie**

* * *

**June, 2016**

Rebekah observes Matt from afar, reflecting that the black graduation gown washes him out, but that the wide smile on his face more than makes up for it. His friends are latched onto him, laughing and screaming their congratulations.

He deserves it more than anyone, she thinks.

He had initially refused to allow her to help him with any financial issues, but she chipped away at his resolve slowly. She came from the oldest of old money, and paying his full college tuition was hardly even a drop in her section of the Mikaelson financial ocean. It helped his conscience that she had attended with him, which he said made him feel less like a charity case and more like he happened to be along for the ride. He had relented after making her promise to let him pay her back (which was a deal that she had no intention of fulfilling her end of, but if it got him to allow her to help she would make any false promise in the world), and after he had applied to every school he could find that had a pre-med program, they had set off to his first choice college, Emory University.

She was more interested in the college experience than the degree—after living for as long as she did she knew firsthand that there was no knowledge that couldn't be gained in time—but decided to use the opportunity to get closer to him, and to show him that she didn't need to rely on her vampire skills for everything.

She had originally wanted to double-major in Medieval and Renaissance Studies and French Language and Literature, but Matt had not-so-kindly pointed out that if she was going to go to college, she should at least learn something new.

Elijah, in an attempt to be witty, had suggested Psychology. She had taken a general course and immediately taken an interest in the subject.

Her vampire hearing catches him promising to meet up with his friends later, and she looks up as he approaches her and then pulls her into his arms, capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

When she had first offered to pay his tuition, he had been (understandably) suspicious. He had questioned her what she felt must have been a thousand times whether she was doing it to make him love her.

She told him a thousand times that she was insulted that he would believe that she thought his love could be bought.

Her fingers wind tightly in his hair, and she pulls back to beam at him. He matches her smile with one of his own, and then says, "I know you're not a huge fan of my friends, but Caroline brought your brother along, so maybe you guys could go out to dinner and catch up? It will probably reduce the likelihood of fatality during dessert by at least seventy-five percent."

"Only seventy-five?"

"Well, Damon and Bonnie will be there."

Rebekah laughs, and kisses him quickly. "Of course. Shall I meet you back at the flat tonight?"

He grins. "Always."

There had never been anything even nearly resembling the meaning of the word 'always' in regards to their relationship, except perhaps in regards for Rebekah's love for him, and Rebekah was well aware of this. Nevertheless, she takes his word—a common answer to her questions—in the spirit that it's meant.

But she knows that she, at least, will always love him.

* * *

**August, 2016**

Matt lets the last cardboard box fall to the ground without bothering to fold it. Rebekah watches him stretch, his arms tired from the heavy lifting. She had offered to do it, as her strength matches his a thousand times over, but he had insisted that she let him move them in. So, here she is on their thrift-shop couch sipping her tea and watching the muscles of his back ripple in the very best way.

Their flat is cramped, but artfully arranged. Rebekah acquiesced to his request for "an apartment that a normal couple our age could afford without having enough money to buy five private islands or the ability to successfully compel their way through any situation" and they had shopped together for furniture from the local discount stores.

She has to admit to herself that the afternoon had been pleasurable. She loves shopping anyway, and the creative challenge of finding items that would compliment each other without buying the contents of a magazine page is something that it turns out she finds enjoyable. She was also introduced to the concept of a "budget," which she still isn't quite at peace with, but does not question the validity of for normal people.

She puts the teacup down on the coffee table and stands up to walk to him and look out the window at the San Francisco skyline. She can see the lights of the bridge flickering across the bay, and the seemingly endless parade of the red and white lights from the cars driving on the highways.

Matt slips an arm around her shoulders. "So what are you going to do with yourself while I'm at school?"

"I don't know," she says. She honestly hasn't thought that far. The point of the move to San Francisco is so that Matt can attend medical school at University of California, San Francisco, and that will take up most of his time. She doesn't know what she's going to do with herself while he's gone.

"You could get a job," he says, grinning at her and squeezing her briefly.

"Maybe I will."

He stares at her for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Really?"

"What, do you think I can't?"

"No, no, I'm sure you could get a job. I just don't know if you could keep it. Jobs sort-of require you to follow directions and be nice to people. Even when they're driving you crazy."

Rebekah considers this. "Well, worst case scenario I end up having to quit."

He laughs. "No, Bekah. Worst case scenario is that you kill someone. Or more than one someone."

"I think I can get through it without killing someone."

"If you say so," he says.

* * *

**December, 2016**

"Aren't the Christmas holidays supposed to be a happy time where people are kind to others?" Rebekah demands, as she slams the door to their flat shut behind her and throws her keys on the kitchen counter. Her four inch heels clickclack harshly on the hardwood floor as she walks to the bedroom, and she kicks them off impatiently into the closet.

When she returns to the small living area next to the kitchen, Matt looks up at her from his position on the couch. He closes his textbook and puts it down on the coffee table before gesturing for her to join him on the couch. She does, smoothing down her pencil skirt over her knees.

"So? What happened?"

"This woman came in for a fitting last week, and she spent the entire time changing her mind about the dress that she wanted. She finally decided on one and then when she came in this week she had this sketch of a dress that she wanted instead. So now I have to make an entirely new dress by next month—and she wants all this intricate beading and embroidery too—and re-fit the dress she was going to have so that it can go back on the rack."

Rebekah started her dress boutique almost as soon as they moved. She had the resources to buy a good property and decorate how she wanted, and she soon had a following of loyal customers. She was currently dealing with a very demanding and fickle bride on top of the dresses she was custom-making for some of the girls from a local private high school for their upcoming winter dance.

"Haven't you been sewing for centuries? It'll be a cinch."

"Yes, but no matter how long you've been making clothes there's a point where you really can't go any faster. And that wasn't even the worst of it. She wants me to make the bridesmaid dresses in a different color. I need to order new fabric…It'll be a huge nightmare."

"The horror."

Rebekah just glares at him. "You're not being very supportive," she points out.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry Beks. How dare she?"

"Matt…"

"Sorry. She sounds like a bitch. But you are amazing at what you do, and I know you'll get it done in time."

Rebekah laughs, and he smiles at her and picks out a bit of tinsel that got caught in her hair. "I'm sorry," he says again.

She shrugs and he stands up.

"I'm starving, do we have anything to eat? I was going to go grocery shopping, but I forgot." He says, walking over to the refrigerator and opening it.

"We could get take-out?"

"All right. Do you want to watch a movie?"

Matt has been determined to get Rebekah caught up on popular culture of all kinds. Over their four years together, she has been subjected to such "classics" as Star Wars and every episode of Friends. They even have a list taped to the door of their refrigerator with a huge list of everything Rebekah still needs to see. Whenever he thinks of something, he adds it.

"That sounds nice. I'm going to go change out of my work clothes. Can you order?"

"Yeah."

She changes into yoga pants and steals one of his t-shirts, and then carefully removes her make-up. When she comes back to the living room he's hanging up the phone and examining the list on the fridge.

"I was talking to Caroline the other day—"

"Civilly?"

"She's not as insufferable as the rest of your friends."

"And your brother would kill you if you were less that civil."

She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, she asked me if I'd seen the Princess Bride. It sounded so romantic..."

She pretends not to hear Matt's mumbled threats against the other blonde girl while he loads up Netflix on their Xbox.

They snuggle on the couch eating their food, and once they're done Matt gets up to wash the dishes.

"I'm going out for a few." Rebekah announces, pulling a light sweatshirt and stuffing her feet into flats.

Matt ignores her as she leaves, and she feels a pang of sadness because she knows why. Matt likes to pretend that she's not a vampire, and though she's holding out hope, she's almost positive that he'll never agree to being turned. She tries to be as subtle as possible when she goes out to feed, but he always knows (even when she's careful to not get blood on her clothes).

She has three men, all of whom she caught doing various illegal things, that she meets to feed. They're all compelled to come to the specific meeting place when she texts them. Today it's the boy she found in October who she caught spiking girls' drinks with date rape drugs at a bar not to far from their flat. She's efficient today, the whole business taking less than half an hour of her time, and she rushes home, shedding her hoodie and kicking off her shoes by the welcome mat.

She finds Matt in their bed, hardly able to keep his eyes open. She peels off her yoga pants and climbs into bed with him, snuggling into his side.

She doesn't know how long they lie there before he speaks, but she's almost asleep when his voice cuts through the silence.

"Beks?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you still love me if I didn't turn?"

Her heart breaks a little, but she responds anyway.

"Yes."

He kisses her neck softly and then draws her closer to him, as though making sure that she can't leave after his question. She lies awake in the dark, feeling his breath on her cheek evening out.

"Always and forever," she whispers.

* * *

**February, 2017**

Rebekah is a sucker for romance. She knows that Matt knows this, and is therefore completely unsurprised to come back to their flat from work on Valentine's Day to find their dining table piled with her favorite foods, and Matt leaning against the couch in an old-style suit.

"You look handsome," she says, pecking him on the lips, "this looks really good. Did you make everything?"

He nods. "There's a present on the bed. You should go check it out."

She finds one of her favorite old dresses from the late 1600s, which happened to be her favorite time period. She frowns, but slips out of her work clothes and laces up her dress, her fingers dancing along the corset pattern from memory. She returns to the dining table and Matt pulls out her chair.

They eat, and she's still confused about the reasoning for the period clothing until he stands up, turns on a song from his iPod, and offers his hand. She raises an eyebrow and accepts, recognizing the classical arrangement as one of her favorites.

They fall into a familiar dance Rebekah recognizes from years ago, and she smiles, realizing that he went to the trouble of learning it.

"How did you manage this?"

"I might have asked Elijah to help me learn the dance, and I had Caroline ship over your dress."

Rebekah can't wipe the smile off of her face.

"Thank you."

He gives her a serious look, seamlessly switching to a more modern slow dance and resting his hands on her hips. "Rebekah, I just want you to know that you are truly the best thing that ever happened to me. I know that you want me to turn, but I don't think I'm ready yet. I don't even know if I ever will be. But, I do know that I want you in my life for as long as you'll have me, whether I do or not. I love you. You are the best combination of smart and beautiful, and I don't know what I'd do without you."

Rebekah feels tears swimming in her eyes. He said he loves her. He has before, of course, but not often, and she thinks that this is the first time she has ever truly believed it. "I love you too," she whispers.

He pulls her in for a kiss, and she lets her fingers wind in his hair, careful not to pull too hard. He nibbles on her bottom lip, and swipes his tongue across it lightly, causing her to mouth to fall open in a silent gasp. His hands trail fire down her sides through the thick fabric of her gown, and she breaks apart from him just to pull him with her to their bedroom. She turns and he carefully unlaces her dress, kissing the back of her neck softly, and then down her spine as tiny slivers of skin are revealed. She lets the dress pool at her feet and steps out of it, clad only in her underthings, and cups his face in her hands, kissing him softly.

The kiss turns heated quickly, and she carefully removes his suit and pushes him onto the bed, straddling him, and grinding her barely-covered core against his fully erect cock, causing him to let out a barely audible groan. His fingers caress the smooth skin of her stomach to her hips, and he pulls her down for a bruising kiss, hooking his fingers around the lace of her thong and pulling it slowly down her legs. She kicks it off and unclasps her bra, flinging it off the bed, and he takes one of her newly exposed nipples into his mouth, caressing the other with his fingers, causing it to peak into a hardened bud.

She throws her head back and moans softly, causing him to smile into her skin as he peppers her chest with kisses.

She feels his index finger graze her dripping slit, and she shudders as he presses it into her, and moaning when he adds another, wantonly pressing herself against them. He's building her to a peak and when she's almost crashed over the edge he removes his fingers suddenly, denying her the release she desperately craves.

She glares at him, before grasping his cock in her hand and stroking it carefully, before stroking the head lightly with her thumb and then gripping it more firmly, her hand gliding over it in short strokes.

He groans and bucks into her hand, causing her to smirk, satisfied with herself. She lets go abruptly, and grins at the look he shoots her before sinking down onto him, sheathing him in her tight wet heat.

She rides him fast, his hands gripping into her hips to pull her down on his cock again and again as he thrusts inside her. She's moaning loudly, and her pleas trickle into demands as she approaches her peak again, her head thrown back and her breasts heaving. His eyes are fixed on her, and the look he's giving her makes her feel desired and wanted on a whole new level.

Her orgasm crashes over her intensely, and she cries out his name as she comes. He flips them over then, thrusting into her with an intense roughness she barely ever sees in him, but she thinks she likes it. She wraps her legs around his waist trying to pull him deeper into her heat, and she can feel him tensing under her fingers as he comes, murmuring her name in her ear.

He collapses on her, and she smiles as he rolls off, before burying her face in his shoulder.

He pulls her into him, and she basks in the afterglow of their lovemaking. "There was dessert in the fridge. Cake. I forgot about it." He mutters.

She yawns. "We'll eat it tomorrow."

"Are you sure? I can get us each a slice now and we can eat it in bed."

She grins. "Only if you're willing to change the sheets."

"You're on."

Neither of them move.

* * *

**November 2019**

Rebekah is good at passing for becoming older for her age. She's had a thousand years to perfect it. She's also lucky that she lives in a place where surgeries to look younger are normal, and millions of dollars a year are funneled into special creams and remedies for aging. It isn't unbelievable for her to pass as 24, but she's wary of the future.

Matt is 25, and is aging slowly. He still doesn't want to be turned. She's getting more and more certain that he won't change his mind.

She worries about his goals in life. He is the kind of man that wants children, and she can't give them to him.

He's studying next to her while she sketches a new dress design, and she wonders whether he's thought about it. She waits for him to finish up for the night before she brings it up.

He's washing the dishes and nearly drops one into the sink when he hears her question.

"Do you want children?"

Matt frowns. "That's not exactly an option, Beks. I know what I signed up for."

"We could get a surrogate," she suggests quietly.

He shrugs. "Maybe. Do you? Want kids, I mean."

"I always have," she says quietly.

"How would that work, though? You'd never get older—" her heart breaks slightly at his specifying just her rather than both of them, "—and it's not exactly believable for you to be a mother of a twenty-year-old looking like that."

"Once she's that old I'll be her sister," Rebekah says matter-of-factly.

"So you'd be acting as my daughter?" He asks, making a face.

Rebekah laughs. "I could always just be your much-younger beautiful trophy wife?"

"Younger, my ass," he says, drying his hands off on a towel.

"Are you calling me old?"

He shrugs, smirking slightly. "Maybe."

She puts down her sketchbook and walks over to him, poking him in the chest. "That's not very nice."

He pulls her to him and kisses her softly. "We'll have to have an explanation eventually, I guess. Young trophy wife it is."

She laughs, but then rests her hands on his chest, suddenly serious. "Think about it. Having kids," she says.

He nods.

* * *

**December 2019**

Rebekah sets down the chicken carefully on the dinner table, before taking off her oven mitts and sticking them in the drawer. She eyes the table critically, trying to think of anything she's forgotten.

Steaming green beans sit in a glass dish, dripping with butter and garlic. Fluffy mashed potatoes sit next to it in a porcelain bowl, and a tiny pitcher of homemade gravy sits next to it. The chicken sits in the center on a small platter, the skin crispy and glittering with a rich sage and thyme butter sauce. She checks the wine she has set in the cabinet and the chocolate mousse that's chilling in the icebox with the fresh whipped cream. Satisfied that everything is in order, she starts to set the table.

"That smells really good," Matt says as he walks in from the small spare room that they turned into a study.

"Thanks. I hope your friends like it," she says anxiously.

"They'd be crazy not to. You are an amazing cook."

"Given a thousand years you can master pretty much anything."

He laughs. "I guess."

"So, tell me about them again?"

"You'll do fine, Beks. They're my friends, not a firing squad."

"What have you told them about me?"

He frowns. "Quite a bit, but all of it was true."

"I just need to know my backstory."

He snorts. "Backstory?"

She glares at him. "Well, what if you say I was raised in France and I think you said I was raised in Mystic Falls? Did I go to high school with you? How long have we been together? What's my family like?"

"You moved to Mystic Falls in our junior year of high school from Britain. We went to high school together. You come from a reasonably wealthy family—" Rebekah rolls her eyes, "—and we went traveling over the summer between junior and senior year. We were on and off during senior year so that I could focus on getting into Emory, and we both ended up applying and getting in. The day of graduation you told me you loved me, and we've been _blissfully _happy ever since."

"You are quite the romantic aren't you?" She says, laughing.

He shrugs. "It's basically what happened."

"What do they know about my family?"

"Just that they're wealthy and you have a lot of siblings."

She nods slowly. "All right."

There's a knock on the door and Rebekah stiffens. "I need to go change," she says frantically, realizing she's still in sweatpants and an apron.

"Go ahead. I'll get the door," Matt says, smirking at her slightly.

She gives him an exasperated look and scurries into their bedroom, throwing her apron at Matt on the way. She slips off the sweatpants and tugs Matt's t-shirt over her head. She was thankful that this wasn't formal, or she would have been panicking about a million times more.

She pulled on her jeans and top, hurriedly stuck in her earrings and pulled her hair out of its messy bun.

She could hear Matt's friends greeting each other from the other room and took a deep breath. She pasted on her best smile and walked out to the living room confidently. "Hey, you must be Rebekah!"

The girl who had spoken was tall and slightly gangly, and she stuck out her hand for a handshake, the other tangled with that of an even taller weedy-looking boy.

"It's lovely to meet you, as well."

"I'm Cara, and this is James."

Rebekah shook hands with James as well. "I hope you're hungry, I've most likely made too much food."

"There is no such thing as too much food," James joked, laughing when Cara elbowed him in the side and rolled her eyes at him affectionately.

* * *

**April, 2022**

"For goodness sakes, Caroline, this is my wedding, not yours. Stop stressing yourself."

Rebekah watches the other girl as her fingers fly over the touchscreen of her phone, no doubt demanding updates on the state of the preparations for the reception.

"I'm not _stressing, _I'm being thorough."

Rebekah snorts and Caroline shoots a glare over her shoulder. "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready?"

Rebekah shrugs, turning to glance at herself in the mirror. "I think I'm fine."

She really isn't. This is the first time in a thousand years that she's felt sick to her stomach.

Caroline nods distractedly before returning to her phone. There's a knock on the door and Elijah pokes his head in. "Rebekah, you look wonderful."

"Thank you," She says quietly, the presence of her oldest living brother making the whole thing seem more real for some reason.

Soon enough she's walking down the aisle to traditional church music in a dress that's about as puffy as it could possibly be, and Matt stands at the end, his smile the only thing she can see.

The vows are exchanged, rings are given (Rebekah's matches her daylight ring), and Rebekah knows that she's never been this happy.

* * *

**October, 2067**

If Rebekah Donovan has learned one things in her 1074 years of life, it's that when you want something badly enough, life often grants you your wish, but in the worst possible way.

All her life, she craved to be normal. She wanted to go to school, marry a man and have children. And perhaps a cat.

As she sits in a chair at her dying husband's bedside, she reflects that she has accomplished most (if not all) of those goals. She finished high school in Mystic Falls, went through college, started her own business, and married a man she loved. Their daughter Valerie was all grown up now, and could pass for Rebekah's mother.

She listens to his heartbeat.

She's been listening to his heartbeat for two weeks now, never leaving his room. The nurses are compelled to let her stay for as long as she wants.

She knows it won't be long now.

He refuses blood whenever she offers it. A part of her is sad that he doesn't want to turn, that she's not _enough _for him to turn for, but she knows that Matt isn't suited for vampire life. He's too compassionate.

She feels it before she hears it. The stutter of a heart's last effort to keep going.

If she was going to feed him blood, it would have to be now.

Her eyes dart down towards her wrist and back up to her husband.

But this is one of the only times of her life where she can't bring herself to be selfish.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. :) Hope you enjoyed it (I did warn you there would be character death).  
Hugs!  
-Angie**


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